


Lost and Found

by Mordraugsereg



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dragon Stiles Stilinski, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordraugsereg/pseuds/Mordraugsereg
Summary: Derek gets picked up by one of Monroe's hunter factions. He discovers something unexpected.





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning, this is horribly written. I woke up from a dream Saturday and could not get this out of my head. This is a really quick write up of what was in that dream.
> 
> This takes place after the end of Teen Wolf. I wanted as little dialogue as possible.
> 
> Sorry for the sucky title too. I could not figure out what to call this.

In the middle of the battle, bullets flying between the two factions, something roared from the sky. All fighting stopped as everyone turned to see what the newest threat was, to see which side it would take. Derek couldn’t make out what was coming at them but before he could regroup with the Pack the hunters cheered. It seemed they recognized what was coming.

 

Derek could hear Scott calling for him to fall back, to retreat. He could just make out the rest of the Pack disappearing into the trees as he turned to follow. He was almost to the edge when he was knocked to the ground by a downdraft of air. The roar sounded overhead again, closer than before. His ears rang with the sound, blood pumping through his veins audible through pressure buildup in them.

 

He rolled to see what was coming for them, for him, but he could only see the night sky. He felt a sharp pinch in his side as something above him moved. As his sight blurred he could make out something moving through the blackness of the sky. He was out a moment later, the call of the Pack mixing in with the roar of the beast.

* * *

Derek came to screaming. There was a moments shock as he convulsed, blood filling his mouth. An unknown hunter sat at the end of the wires attached to his side, slowly turning the dial up on the voltage. He grit his teeth as he stared at the person, flesh sizzling as he twitched to get away from the electricity.

 

His arms were shackled above his head, feet tied to the chair he was sitting in. The man in charge of his torment smiled before twisting the knob to the right a little more. A whine bubbled up from his throat, between his teeth. He wasn’t sure how long he was left there to convulse, muscles seizing, before the voltage was lowered to an almost imperceptible level. As his chest heaved to bring in much needed air the man moved from his seat to the bars directly behind Derek and released his wrists.

 

Taking a few short minutes to get his bearings straight he pulled the shackles off and used a claw to cut through the rope on his ankles. Looking around he realized the guard had disappeared, the battery with him. The sounds of someone walking away drifted to his ringing ears. He was in a cell, bars on all sides. A cot was set up in one corner, a bucket of water next to it. In another corner was a toilet.

 

Reaching for the wires attached to his side, Derek yanked on them, a grunt of pain escaping as the wires pulled free of the flesh that had healed around them. He had the briefest thought of what the creature in the sky could have been before he slumped to the cot, exhaustion from being electrocuted pulling him to unconsciousness.

* * *

Derek sat on his cot waiting for the torture to start again. The heartbeat he had grown to know over the last week had spiked a few minutes previously, a telltale sign that his next session was about to start. The screaming started soon after. The person behind the scream never begged for it to stop, never gave anything away. He just took the torture, the pain, and let it out in the only way he could. Derek never saw the person, never even heard them talk. The only thing he could ever pick up from them was the sound of their heart.

 

The place they were being held in looked to be an old storage bunker, crates and palates creating walls and barriers that didn’t allow Derek to see more than the small space around his cell. There was the desk and chair that the guards took shifts sitting in. They didn’t torture him again after the first initial shocks they had given when he had first arrived.

 

A catwalk ran the length of the ceiling, branching off over various parts of the bunker. Derek watched as men with rifles paroled the walkway, eyes drifting over different sections of the place. He couldn’t get a read on the number of hunters or how many other creatures were being held captive.

 

It had been a blow that first night to hear the heartbeat skip into overdrive before the screams started. It still caused Derek to tense with the sound, expecting to eventually receive the same treatment, but it never came. Derek had tried to tune out the sounds the person made, screams when he was electrocuted, groans when he was being beat, whimpers when he was hosed down with water.

 

There were other noises but Derek tried to ignore them. He couldn’t get attached to the person they belonged to. Something about the sounds crawled under his skin, made him think they belonged to someone young, someone familiar. If he ever got the chance to get out he needed to take it, needed to get to somewhere safe.

 

He lasted the week before he couldn’t ignore the person any longer. As the screams started he let loose a low howl, a call to the other person to let them know they weren’t alone. The guard outside his cell swore and reached for his gun, only pointing it at Derek as his call to the other died down. He felt a sharp sting in his neck, a hand reaching up to it on reflex as the world started to go fuzzy, a dart sticking out between his fingers.

* * *

The next time he woke up Derek saw a cell across from his. There was a person laying on it, their back to him. They were curled in on themselves, a blanket covering their body. Only a tuft of brown hair stuck out from the end.

 

Derek rolled to his feet, stretching out his arms and back. The sedative that they used made him slow, stiff. The cell they had moved him to was like his last one. There was a guard stationed outside his cell door, one on each side of the other persons. Now that he was closer to the other person he could smell the anger and pain that coated the area. It made him gag when he realized he knew that scent.

 

He might not be an Alpha anymore but the protective instincts for Pack was still there, front and center. He had been listening to one of his pack members screaming for the past week. Anger boiled through his veins, the shift coming easily, as he rushed the cell door. The guard startled backwards, knocking into the desk that was there.

 

The door didn’t budge, didn’t even creak. He rushed it again, putting his full weight into the hit. The impact rang throughout the bars but did little else. Derek snarled at the guard again, the man’s gun aimed at his chest. He would have done more but the sudden uptick of the heartbeat that was so close now had him turning away.

 

Stiles sat in the cot opposite him, hair tussled and eyes puffy. He kept rubbing at his eyes, looking to Derek, then counting his fingers. The cycle didn’t break until Derek spoke his name. It was a soft sound that Derek wasn’t even sure he should have even heard.

 

At the mention of his name though, Stiles rubbed his eyes one last time before they slowly grew large, terrified. The sudden pervasiveness of his scent had Derek stumbling for his cot. There had been fear present before but the all-consuming terror that spread through the area had him wondering what could have caused this. It had been a long time since Stiles had been even slightly afraid of him.

 

Derek watched as Stiles crawled as far away from him as he could. How the air being pulled into his lungs seemed to catch and rattle back out. There was a brief moment where Derek thought Stiles was spiraling into a panic attack, but the hunters were surrounding his cell, yelling and pulling fire hoses out from ducts in the ground. He watched as they opened the nozzles and doused Stiles with them, his anger taking hold again.

 

It was a long night of anger and fear and water as Stiles continued to freak out, as the hunters continued to buffet him with water.

* * *

Stiles had been missing for 6 months prior to Derek being captured. He had disappeared one day, never to be seen or heard from again. When the hunters didn’t come forward to use him as a bargaining chip, it had been speculated that he had just up and run, gotten out of the fray before he was killed. Anyone that knew him well enough knew that wasn’t Stiles. He was a fighter, he stuck with his family no matter what.

 

Derek wasn’t sure why Stiles was so terrified of him but Derek tried to get him to talk every morning. He’d ask to see how he was doing, what had happened to him. Each question was always met with silence.

 

When the guards came to torture Stiles for the day Derek would try to reassure him that the pack was on its way, that they would get out of there. He got to see up close the kinds of things they put Stiles through.

 

The day after Derek had been moved to his new cell he saw them wheel in a cylindrical tube, a generator hooked up to it. Stiles’ heart rate increased as the thing was set down against his cell door. The door to his cell opened inwards as the door to the cylinder open outwards. Other guards and hunters fanned out around the cell, cattle prods poking through the bars, corralling Stiles towards it.

 

Derek watched as he was forced into the machine, the door closing no sooner than he was inside it. The sound of a vacuum sealing had Derek catching his breath as the generator kicked on. Stiles crumpled to the bottom of the cylinder, hands braced against the sides of it. His lips were turning blue the longer he was in the thing.

 

Derek begged for Stiles. He begged for the men to let him out. He told them that he was human, that he was harmless. The men laughed at his pleas. They didn’t let Stiles out until he was unconscious. The guards used poles to push Stiles from the cylinder and back into his cell.

 

The third day they came at Stiles with dry ice. They placed it on his skin, watched as he cried out in pain as the ice steamed and flesh boiled. They placed it on his back, his palms, his feet and hands. Derek didn’t understand why they were torturing Stiles. Why they kept hurting him.

 

That night Derek watched over Stiles as he tossed and turned in him sleep. He hadn’t woken since passing out from the pain of the dry ice. One of Stiles’ hands dropped over the side of the bed, a hand that should have had a giant blister on its palm. Derek stared, not trusting his eye sight. He knew there should have been a mark there but unblemished skin was all he could see.

 

He tried for the rest of the night to see if he could scent anything different from Stiles. A new undertone that would tell Derek what he had become. What he had been turned into. Derek tried as hard as he could but he only smelt the same thing as when they first met years ago.

* * *

Two weeks of watching Stiles be tortured, the routine changed.

 

Derek woke to find himself in a chair, hands bound behind his back, each ankle strapped to the front leg of the chair. His wrists and ankles burned. He was facing away from Stiles’ cell. Movement behind him alerted him to the fact that someone was in the cell with him.

 

A grunt of pain was punched out of him as a knife was pushed into his back. A few moments later another knife was slowly pushed into the meat of his right thigh. He barely contained the groan of pain that pushed through his teeth. A third knife, blade to the skin of his right collar bone, slid to the left one. Blood trickled down his chest. The hunter’s hand came from around his left shoulder rubbing something into the wound at his neck. Derek could smell the wolfsbane that was mixing with his blood. It stung hs it was worked into the injury.

 

As more blades were pushed into his body Derek tried to keep from crying out. One particularly harsh twist of a blade in his back broke his silence. There was a grunt from Stiles’ cell, the scent of something like smoke drifting in the air.

 

There was no other sound made from Stiles as Derek was used as a knife block. More wolfsbane was added to each of his wounds as they were made. He wasn’t sure how long he lasted before he felt the strain on his body, felt the darkness closing in on him. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the blood lose or the wolfsbane poising but was soon falling into unconsciousness.

 

From that day forward the hunters were focusing their torture on him. He preferred it to be him. As far as Derek could tell Stiles was still 100% human. He wasn’t sure how his injuries healed so fast but other than that there was no indication that he was something else.

 

The days torment always stopped after falling unconscious. Anything that was given to him as a poison was reversed after he passed out; injuries were left untreated to heal on their own. Stiles never said anything to him, never seemed to notice that Derek was the one being tortured now.

 

They had started off light with Derek. Knives, heat deprivation, electrocution, air deprivation. They had even used the dry ice on him.

 

His least favorite so far had been the air deprivation. The cylindrical tube was cramped and when the door closed behind him he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. As the air was pumped from the container he panicked at not being able to breath. Every time he tried to gulp down oxygen he was met with a nothingness that terrified him. He could feel his lungs expanding but nothing was going into them.

 

As the hunters gathered around this morning he noticed that they were corralling Stiles into the cylinder. It was the first morning in weeks that they had gone back to torturing him. As he watched, the hunters started pumping the oxygen from the cylinder but stopped before it was completely empty. They pulled out the hoses as if they were going to follow up the oxygen deprivation with the water.

 

He was too distracted by what was going on with Stiles that he didn’t realize that they were setting something up for him as well. The scent alerted him before anything else. The fumes burned his nose. He turned terrified eyes to the red plastic can that was hanging from the fingers of the man above him. The gasoline was already being tipped over the railing and onto him. He tried to get away from the downpour but there really was nowhere he could go to get away from it.

 

He raced to the cell door, rammed against it again and again, hoping that it would break open. There was a banging in the background, something trying to get through to his fear addled brain but he couldn’t think past the smell of gasoline, the sound of a Zippo lighter flicking open and closed. He was going to burn and he couldn’t think past it.

 

Somewhere there was an explosion of sound, glass breaking and water hoses spraying. A roar like the night he had been taken sounding from just behind him. He still couldn’t turn to look as the hunter in front of him, Zippo lighter open and flame dancing in the chaos, froze, the lighter falling from his fingers. It landed in a small trail of gasoline, the flame catching the liquid on fire. The blue flame raced along the floor, spreading to light every patch of gasoline on fire. Derek could only watch as the blue flame licked its way towards him.

 

A strong wind pushed the flames back long enough for one of the hoses to be turned on him, the water shocking him out of his terror. He spun around to see what the commotion was and gasped.

 

The cylinder was destroyed, broken and crushed. Stiles’ cell was a pile of metal bars and broken furniture. Most of the hunters were already knocked out, a few trying to crawl away. There was still a hose being trained on him, the end grasped in the hands of a hunter who was locked between the jaws of a dragon.

 

The thing was mostly black with red peeking out from under scales and highlighting edges. Its long neck was coiled close to its body, wings tucked tight and tail tip twitching every so often to knock a hunter off their feet. Black eyes stared straight at Derek as he stared back at it. He tried to inch around his cell to see if he could see Stiles laying in the rubble of the cylinder but the dragon moved its head so that the water continued to rain down on him.

 

Derek wasn’t sure what was going on. This had to have been the creature that the hunters had cheered on the night he was taken but why would it be attacking them? How was it even there? The roof of the place was still intact. He tried to inch around his cell again to see if he could see Stiles. The dragon moved its head with him.

 

An alarm going off startled the dragon, causing it to drop the hunter in its jaws. Derek watched as its large head snaked out from its body, snout pushing against the remaining cell. The bars groaned and the whole structure shifted. It stopped and seemed to study the walls for a moment before it opened its mouth and breathed a gust of hot air on the bars. When it pushed against them again they bent under its weight. It nosed its way into the cell, head breaking through the bars and bending them out of the way.

 

Derek backed into the bars behind him trying to get away from the dragon. He could still smell gasoline all around him. If the dragon’s breath was hot enough to soften iron or steel, he didn’t want to be anywhere near the creature. As the head moved closer to him, he pushed as far against the bars as possible.

 

The dragon only bumped its snout against his chest before retreating from the cell, a hole more than big enough for Derek to jump through and escape now created for him. He could hear the sounds of people running towards them. Derek moved as swiftly as he could through the cell and out into freedom. He could feel the dragon’s eyes on him as he moved around it, checking the bodies on the floor for Stiles.

 

The dragon shifted its wings around, tail tip swishing, as it moved to follow Derek’s search to the cylinder. Most of the container was spread out and around the creature, pieces all over the place. There were a few blood smears on the glass pieces but it didn’t smell like Stiles, it smelt like the dragons. He darted a glance to the dragon then back to the piece of glass on the floor.

 

Taking a tentative step towards the dragon, Derek held out a hand. “Stiles? If you’re the dragon I really need you to let me know somehow.”

 

As he advanced it retreated. It couldn’t go far, more its neck coiling in around its body then physically moving backwards. If it tried to move any further back the palates and crates would knock over. He kept his hand held up, palm towards the dragon’s snout. He closed his eyes and looked away, letting Stiles make the next move. If this really was Stiles he’d know what to do.

 

After a few moments Derek felt the brush of rough scales against his fingertips and a hot breath against his palm. He let out the breath he’d been holding, wondering when something like this could have happened.

 

Derek wasn’t sure where to go from here. He knew this dragon was somehow Stiles but there was a group of hunters racing towards them. They didn’t have anywhere to go. He startled when talons wrapped around his middle. Derek went with the motion, let himself be pulled against Stiles underbelly. He was on the verge of asking what he was going to do when heat started radiating out from Stiles. Sweat started to bead on Derek’s forehead, neck, underarms. Just before there was a jet of fiery red flames coming from Stiles’ maw there was a bellow loud enough to send Derek to his knees.

 

The talon’s flexed around him briefly before holding on a little tighter. Derek was on the verge of protesting when wings unfurled from Stiles’ sides and pushed them off the ground. They didn’t have far to go before they were crashing into the ceiling of the bunker, cement falling around them. As they flew away Derek caught a glimpse of the fire raging within the bunker, the crates and pallets ablaze.

**Author's Note:**

> The cylinder thingy is used as oxygen deprivation. My mind figured that taking it away form a dragon would be painful... part of their core makeup is the fire in their bellies. Without the oxygen that flame would die.
> 
> Yes, Derek figured that if Stiles was the dragon he would most definitely do the How to Train Your Dragon nose to palm touch that Toothless and Hiccup do in the first movie.
> 
> Things that were in my dream but couldn't figure out how to get into this story:  
> 1\. After Stiles' 21 birthday he started to change into the dragon.  
> 2\. The hunters learnt that he was a dragon (not sure how) and captured him. They tortured and brainwashed him so that they could use him to fight on their side of the war.  
> 3\. After Stiles helped capture Derek, the hunters tortured Stiles more because he tried to protect him instead of kill him.  
> 4\. The hunters started using Derek as a way to torture Stiles. They increased their level of torture to see if they could get Stiles to react. They finally settled on burning Derek while making Stiles watch to break him.  
> 5\. The hunters figured that if they had Stiles in the oxygen deprivation tank (killing his flame and weakening him at the same time) and the firehoses ready for if he fought back they'd be able to contain him.


End file.
